


Silk and Briar

by BugTongue



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Slave, Self-cest, copious amounts of alien jizz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugTongue/pseuds/BugTongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat fights pretty hard for someone who wants every bit of his punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk and Briar

You knew this was going to be a lot of work, keeping a slave, but you were absolutely not expecting him to be so _willing_. When he's ordered to clean, he cleans, When he's ordered to sit and look pretty, he poses and glares at you dark enough to be the pitch side of flirtatious. He bathes you and feeds you and sleeps in the same slime when you tell him to, the whole time giving you glares and sneers and finite growls like he's the one in charge. Like hes the one who owns you.

That just wont fly.

You call him into your study as he passes by, broom in hand, and tell him to close the door. Both of you know there is absolutely zero chance of anyone walking in, and of course you don't mean it to keep anyone out so much as keep someone in.

"Come here, and kneel." You roll the word on your tongue and breathe a smidge deeper as his expression screws up in displeasure, but he obeys you with smooth, showy motions. You move your knee to the side and prod him in the chest before stretching your leg out to the left of him, then spread your other leg enough to draw his eyes downward.

"Do you expect me to suck your bulge, master?" Your title is a hiss of a word, his flow chopped and forced like speaking needs to be an act of violence at all times. You curl your lip, fingers twitching to tangle through his hair and yank, force his neck bared.

"I expect you to remove your shirt, with haste i might add." His throat bobs as his fingers come up and work the buttons free of the catches, moving down his chest until he drapes it over and off his shoulders. He goes to free an arm before you crowd him with your knee. "Stop there, remove your shoes." His cheeks dust a revolting hue as he kicks them off.

"Turn around and get up on your knees." Watching his chest's tempo quicken while he does as bid only causes yours to follow suit. You scoot your chair in and lower it a fraction to enable a better reach. His ears twitch when you rest your claws against his shoulder and gently ghost them across his skin to his opposite clavicle, then up and along his throat. Your fore claw teases at his lower lip until the hard press loosens and his mouth opens to allow the digit in. You rub the wet velvet of his tongue until you reach far enough back to make him gag. Then you do it again and allow him to pull away from your hand and into your stomach before pushing two fingers into his mouth and scooping under the sides of his tongue, prompting him to lift it. You stroke the thin membrane underneath until enough saliva has pooled there to begin leaking down his chin. His lashes flutter as you go back to rubbing back and forth along his tongue, face a blotchy red disgrace

  
You add another prong before nudging his jaw upward until he closes his lips around your slowly thrusting fingers. The claws of your free hand slide down across his rib cage to his stomach chub. His abdominal muscles jump at your touch until you've rubbed over them enough times for him to grow accustomed to it, then you move all the way back up to stroke his throat, the fingers in his mouth speeding up. You marvel at how he relaxes further against you, head leaning back to expose his throat fully, eyes hardly open and focused on the far wall, spine curved enough that the only factor keeping him in the position you ordered being how heavily he's leaning into your lap. You stop touching his throat so you can dig your thumb and fore-claw into a grubscar, making him arch further in a rush of pain. When he bites your fingers you press down and back, making him gag on his own tongue.

"Do not get it in your head that I am not the one in control of this hivehold and everythin inside it, am I understood?" His nostrils flare as he struggle to breathe and when he doesn't make any sign of agreement you dig your claws into his mouth. He grabs your knee and presses his dull nails into the striped fabric, a whimper gurgling free of his throat. When you release his tongue he sucks a breath in and spits your hand out.

"You only think you're in control, because of a signature on paper." You growl and yank his head back by the hair so hard you feel few strands come loose. He gasps and when the sharp tang of arousal hits your nose you realize its not your own. Looking down shows his bulge doing its fair best to strain the seem of his pants open and you sneer, craning his head back further.

"How precious, you tryin to goad me into raping you Kar? You think that's how a true Alternian highblood should correct his property?" His eyes flutter shut and his face gets dark enough you wonder if he's getting light headed.

"Th, thinking about how tight that chilly nook of yours is, if it's anything like how much of a tightass you are." That was both the lamest and hottest thing you've ever heard, the latter probably because he sounded wrecked already and you haven't even gotten his pants off.

"Hmm, I think I'd much rather watch you fuck yourself than get any sort of concupiscent. Take your fuckin pants off, lowblood." You grab his shoulders and shove him forward hard enough he goes "oof" when he hits the ground. He pushes himself up but you plant a foot on his back and shove him back down, heel digging into the squishy lower flesh.

"Take, off, your pants."

He reaches down and wiggles out of his pants with great difficulty as you unzip your own pants and pull your bulge free. You remove your foot from his back and hook it under his stomach, pressing your toe up until he raises up onto his knees, chest still on the ground. His hands lay half-curled by his shoulders, shirt drooped and bunched invitingly. You drag your tongue along your parched lips while taking in his curling bulge, the liquid drooling out of his nook, the flush of his seed flaps. "I believe i said i wanted you to fuck yourself, get to it."

He swallows hard as you pull the tip of his blood-engorged bulge back until it curls further and licks at his nook. When it delves into him it forces a groan past his lips, his chest heaving. In one undulation after another it disappears into his hungry nook, faster than you expected him to go, certainly faster than you would want on your own self. Once its in as far as it can stretch you push it the last bit it can go with the sole of your shoe, bringing a hand up to slowly stroke yourself. You don't get to see the way his bulge writhes and thrusts inside him, but you do get to watch his ass bounce and his shoulder blades tense, mouth dropping open and eyes squinting in tense pleasure.

"Enjoying yourself?" You prompt, squeezing your bulge tight as he shudders.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Yes who?"

"Unhh... Yes master."

"go on." You breathe out shakily, stroking faster and leaning your cheek against the back of your chair to relax as you watch him.  
He moans and it's played up a good deal more than outright pleasure. "It feels good, master. Better than you could, e-ever hope to do." He winces when you push his bulge down out of his nook a couple inches, the hard material of your shoe nowhere near as gentle as a hand would have been.

"Excuse me?"

"hhah, oh... fuck, it, better than you." He pants out, desperation clear on his face. You shiver and roll your hips into your next stroke. You hook your foot around his thigh and flip him onto his back, rolling up to him before he can shut his legs.

"Resume, fuckin yourself, if you're such a fuckin maestro at it." You pant as you jerk off over him, one foot planted at the joint of his leg and hip so you can get a clear view of his lower abdomen shift and bulge as he does as told. You growl and he jerks bodily from how his junk invisibly responded. "Play with those sorry excuses for rumblespheres."

"They, theyre better than yours, again, because you- ahh, hf." He trails off in a groan and just does it, squeezing the flesh and pushing them up and together while his thighs spasm. You fail to even try to stifle a moan as you watch, leaning forward and stroking your bulge quickly. For all he claims to be so much better, it's you who comes first, absolutely drenching him with your geneslime and loving every minute of it. You can just hear his indignant shout over the rushing of blood in your ears, but by the time you come down enough to watch him he's already writhing in ecstasy, slurry bloating his genetic material pouch enough to slosh obviously.

He lays there and gasps for air, limbs sprawled out bonelessly while it eventually dawns on him hes lying in a cold puddle of jizz.

"You are such a bastard."

You smile. "Actually I'm an orphaner, i make bastards."

The hot glare he gives you is almost enough to make your bulge stir again.


End file.
